Ghost in the Machine
by illman
Summary: Separated from each other and stranded on a frozen world, Martha and the Doctor are forced to forge dangerous alliances in the fight against an old enemy.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Ghost in the Machine  
Author: hexicode aka illman  
Fandom/pairing (if appropriate): Doctor Who, no pairing  
Summary: Separated from each other and stranded on a frozen world, Martha and the Doctor are forced to forge dangerous alliances in the fight against an old enemy.  
Rating: technically all ages, but maybe a bit too violent for the kiddies  
Warnings: AU, some violence (but nothing too graphic)  
Disclaimers: The characters and settings aren't mine. No profit is being made, this is for entertainment only  
A/N: Many thanks to the lovely DianeM for beta-reading.

* * *

"Come on, Martha! It's no fun if you don't guess."

"Fine. What was it that you said again?"

"Something green."

Martha sighed, not bothering to open her eyes. "The walls?"

"No."

"The ceiling."

"No."

"The bars in front of the window?"

"Yes, got it in three guesses. Your turn."

"Doctor, not that I don't appreciate that you're feeling better, but some of us still need to sleep." Idly, Martha wondered if the Doctor was annoying her on purpose, or if cabin fever was just getting the better of both of them. The TARDIS might have looked not much larger than a storage closet from the outside, but its vast interior left more than enough room for its occupants to spend some time alone, if desired. Martha certainly enjoyed the Doctor's company, but being stuck in the same room, twenty-three hours a day, for the past five days, was pushing her limits.

"I had enough rest lately to last me at least another decade," the Doctor replied and she could hear him start pacing again. Martha sighed, turned herself to face the wall and pulled the thin pillow over her head.

A moment later, the barely muted sounds of the Doctor's footsteps were joined by a second, much heavier set, approaching quickly from the other side of the solid steel door.

The footsteps paused, and with a scratching noise, the thick metal plate covering the window in the door was pulled back. Throwing the pillow aside, Martha watched from her vantage point on the top bunk as the Doctor approached the door.

"So, what is on the menu for today?" The Doctor greeted the person on the other side of the cell door, presumably one of the prison guards, cheerfully.

"Back on your feet, eh? Didn't think you'd get back up after that shock," the guard replied, sounding quite impressed, apparently not bothered that the Doctor had tried to jump him while Martha had organized a distraction.

"Yeah, I'm like that. Not so easy to get rid of," the Doctor replied with a shrug as if the shock that had rendered him unconscious for two days had been nothing.

"Doubt that is going to help you much tomorrow. But it'd really be a shame."

"Why is that?"

"The jury came back with the verdict an hour ago. Never thought it would take them that long, though."

"May I enquire as to what the verdict says?" the Doctor asked, sounding just a bit annoyed by now.

"They want your head, what else?" The guard laughed as if the Doctor had told a particularly funny joke. "Almost forgot, here's your lunch." A tray was pushed through the opening, but the Doctor ignored it.

"It's all going to be broadcast, live and all, of course. Only wish my parents could have seen the day," the guard chattered on. "They are talking of making it a planetary holiday."

"You know what," the Doctor said, "I hereby fire my lawyer. Except, I didn't get one, did we, Martha? This is Cassia IV here, right?"

With a bang, the window flew closed.

"Huh, must have been something I said. He seemed so nice. Just goes to show that you never know…" the Doctor mused, as he inspected their lunch. He dipped a finger in one of the bowls and licked it. "Not bad, not bad at all. Best we've had all week I'd say."

"Doctor!"

"Yes?" He turned around

"What are we going to do?" Martha asked, climbing down from her bunk and trying hard to quell the panic in her voice.

"I thought that I'd have the soup, while you get the…"

"You know what I mean!"

"Well, you could try taking your top off."

"Because the seduction technique worked so well the last time. I don't think so. That shock nearly killed you."

"Yeah, I wonder why it didn't zap you, though," the Doctor said, regarding the bracelet around his left wrist thoughtfully. "I wasn't doing anything. Yet."

"Some sort of telepathic thingy?"

The Doctor gave her a long look before he answered.

"Nah, I don't think so. It's nothing."

"You're probably right." Martha forced a smile and reached for the other bowl on the tray.

* * *

After a few abortive attempts at conversation on Martha's part, they lapsed into silence while outside, the sun was slowly, but relentlessly, sinking. Without the benefit of artificial light in their cell, they were all too soon enveloped in darkness. The Doctor mumbled something about getting some rest before their big day and settled on his bunk, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Martha was confident that he wasn't sleeping, but it was clear that he wasn't interested in making conversation. She wondered what was going on in his mind, but just by staring at him in the dark, she wasn't going to find out. Martha climbed onto her bunk, certain that she wouldn't be able to sleep anyways, with the prospect of their execution hanging over them. Much to her surprise, she still slipped into sleep, as the fatigue and exhaustion caught up with her.

She woke with a start when the door was unlocked. For a blissful second, she wondered what was going on, but the next moment, she remembered that their execution was imminent and that the guard was most likely going to take them to wherever they were supposed to die.

The Doctor was already on his feet.

"Had a good night?" he cheerfully asked the guard.

"Didn't get much sleep with all the preparation for the big day, but I can't complain. Now, if you'd follow me." Martha and the Doctor did as he'd asked and followed the guard down the corridor.

"You know it's thanks to you that I'll get to meet the President. You wouldn't think he'd ever come out here to this rock, but he wants to oversee your execution personally."

"I'm sure we should feel honoured." Martha couldn't help making the comment.

"She is right. The home world hasn't taken an interest in what goes on here in decades, not until you've shown up….Not that I think that killing you is the answer. It's not like that will change anything. It wasn't always like that."

"Then how did you come to adopt the death penalty, here on Cassia. The last time I was here, you were a perfectly peaceful and civilised people. That can't have been so long ago. But it's always like that. Get rid of one dictator, another steps up to the plate. Democracy never seems to last."

"You really don't know, do you?" The guard turned to face them.

"No, we honestly don't. But if it is like I suspect, then Martha here has nothing to do with all of this. It's me you really want, not her."

"That's not for me to decide." The guard shrugged, turning his back to them again. The lack of any security measures was tempting, but after their earlier escape attempt had led them to discover the purpose of the thin, but solid, metal armbands that had been fitted around their left wrists. The sudden and unexpected shock had rendered the Doctor unconscious for almost two days, during which Martha had feared he would never wake up and she would end up all alone in jail on an alien planet without even knowing what crime she had supposedly committed.

"Here we are." The guard stopped in front of another grey steel door, just like the hundreds of others they'd passed on the way. The guard knocked on the door.

The door swung open, seemingly moved remotely. The guard stepped back, letting Martha and the Doctor enter first.

The office was almost as barren as their prison cell. The undecorated green concrete walls seamlessly blended into the floor. A large desk dominated the room. Behind it sat a man in what was clearly some sort of military uniform and from the amount of metal pinned to his chest, Martha estimated that he was pretty high up the foodchain. A second man, dressed in what looked very much like a business suit, but with a fur-studded cape slung over his shoulders, sat on a small couch to the left, right next to where the TARDIS stood in the corner. The man with the cloak got up when they entered.

"Doctor, I must say it is an honour to finally meet you."

"Well, I might be honoured, too, if I knew you."

"Of course, you don't know me, seeing that I'm a mere product of your actions, in a manner of speaking. Without you, none of us would be here. Cassia would still be a prosperous, fertile planet, not the frozen wasteland we live in now. So, you see, it really is an honour to finally meet you and to be the man who brings you to justice."

"Before we get to the whole bringing to justice and killing part, do I get a last request?" the Doctor asked, still sounding awfully cheerful, like the whole thing was just a game. This was the Doctor all right; only he could make running for your life seem like fun. Half of the time, Martha even believed him. But this time they weren't going to be able to laugh and joke about it all afterwards. This time, they were really going to die.

"I don't know why you should, Doctor."

"Anyways, since you are so well informed about my supposed crimes, you should know that Martha has nothing to do with any of this. She wasn't even with me when I came to Cassia. You surely know that."

"We do, and it is unfortunate. We are not in the habit of murdering innocent people. Your companion is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But be assured, that she will die quickly. Unlike you, you will die over and over, painfully."

Martha frowned. She wasn't sure what the man was talking about. Surely, even the Doctor could only die once. The alternative simply didn't make sense. But before she could ponder the mystery further, her attention returned to the events playing out in front of her. The Doctor was silent, but the man who'd been on the couch when they'd come in was now whispering something to the man in uniform.

"What fate do you propose for your companion? Assuming we choose to grant your request," the man in uniform addressed the Doctor.

"She deserves to return to her home planet. I can programme my ship so that it will take her home without me."

"Why not?" the man asked, a sly smile suddenly on his face. "Go ahead. We were hoping to make use of your ship, but I doubt even our best scientists could make sense of it, no matter how long they were to study it. He slipped a hand into his pocket and revealed their two keys to the TARDIS that had been taken from them when they'd been imprisoned. Martha was still staring in shock when the Doctor was already across the room, unlocking the door to the TARDIS.

"Aren't you coming, Martha?" Martha blinked, but nothing changed. She was still in the warden's office and the Doctor was still standing in the opened TARDIS door. She hurried over to the Doctor, but before she reached him, her hopes were dashed.

"One more thing, Doctor. Just in case you were thinking of using your ship to escape, you should know that the band around your wrist will deliver a fatal shock in…" He checked his watch. "In about eight minutes. It will go off sooner, should you try to remove it or tamper with it."

"I'll try to remember that," the Doctor simply said, then turned to her. "Come on, Martha. You heard the man, time is running out. Back in a minute!"

Martha rapidly crossed the remainder of the room and slipped into the comforting vastness of the TARDIS. The Doctor pulled the door closed behind them and hurried over to the console and started working furiously.

"You can't seriously be thinking about going back out there."

"Of course not!" The Doctor didn't look up. Instead he slammed down his fist on the console several times, muttering something under his breath. "No, no. You can't do that to me. Not now!" He dove underneath the console, and proceeded to remove part of the grille covering the floor. Rummaging around in the bowels of the TARDIS, he started to remove bits and pieces of machinery. Finally, the column mounting from the center of the console started to move accompanied by the usual grinding and wheezing that indicated that they were dematerializing. But it only lasted for a moment before the lights started to flicker and the column started to bob up and down at a frantic pace.

"Doctor, Doctor, you need to...!?" Martha yelled over the ever-increasing noise, but she couldn't seem to make herself heard. The TARDIS was beginning to shake underneath her feet.

"They must have been messing with the TARDIS!" the Doctor yelled over the noise

"I never would have guessed!" Martha snapped. "I don't mean to rush you, but you have about two minutes left."

The Doctor looked at her, obviously not able to hear her properly over the catastrophic noise. Martha raised her left arm, pointing to her wrist, hoping to make the Doctor understand even if the noise prevented him from hearing her.

The Doctor nodded. He was saying something, but Martha couldn't understand him. She saw him fiddle with what looked like the sonic screwdriver, but had to be a spare one since it had been confiscated by the prison officers. He only worked for a second or two when he was suddenly engulfed in a brilliant green light, so bright that Martha had to close her eyes. The light faded as quickly as it had come. Martha was able to open her eyes again. The Doctor was stretched out on the floor of his ship. Martha hurried over to him, calling his name. But the Doctor didn't move. Martha tried to feel for a pulse, but with the TARDIS shaking this badly, she couldn't be sure. She thought she'd felt a lone beat, but when she tried to find it again, it was gone.

The shaking was growing worse by the second. Martha was trying to get to her feet to try and have a look at the displays, already knowing that she wouldn't be able to manipulate the TARDIS on her own. Half of the time, the Doctor couldn't even seem to make her work the way he wanted to. No sooner than she'd gotten to her feet, when the TARDIS rocked violently, throwing her off her feet and into the railing. The impact itself wasn't painful, but suddenly she couldn't breathe anymore. She was facedown on the floor, unable to move or breathe. Martha realized that she was dying when her vision started to grey.

* * *

The Doctor woke to silence, darkness and pain. For a moment, he didn't realize that his eyes were already open, but when he blinked, he realized that it was simply totally dark, wherever he was. Even thinking of moving hurt, so he turned to his sense of hearing. He managed to make out the beating of his own hearts, and the faint sound of inhaling when he drew breath. After a few seconds, his hearing sharpening in the absence of other sensory input, he was able to pick up the sound of another heart beat, singular, the heart rate and accompanying breathing rhythm indicating an unconscious humanoid. Martha? Ignoring the pain, the Doctor pushed himself up and got to his feet, only to have his knees buckle under him and land face first on the floor. More careful this time, he extended a hand and examined the floor around him. The grille underneath him was familiar, the spacing exactly like that of the TARDIS. So, he was in his TARDIS - that was a good start. He couldn't remember anything about how he'd gotten into his present predicament, but his probing fingers found a familiar, cylindrical object – the sonic screwdriver. Except, he'd lost the sonic screwdriver, somehow, he seemed to recall. But he'd always wanted to build a spare, so he wasn't about to question his lucky find, especially when he was able to switch on the sonic screwdriver, creating a small, but working torch. In the blue light of the sonic screwdriver, he was able to confirm that he was indeed inside the TARDIS. It was only then that he noticed that it was cold, very cold. His body adjusted easily to temperature changes, so he'd not noticed immediately, but now he was aware that the temperature had to be hovering barely above zero. Martha had to be freezing. Martha?! The Doctor looked around the darkened console room. Martha was slumped on the ground near the railing. The Doctor hurried over to her.

"Martha?" The Doctor changed the setting on the sonic screwdriver and ran its beam over Martha's body. He didn't like what he saw – a broken arm, a concussion, but much more seriously, a spinal fracture and quite advanced hypothermia. He needed to get her warmed up soon, but he couldn't move her until he'd done something about the fracture. Normally it wouldn't be a problem with the medical technology available to him in the TARDIS, but without power, it would take some ingenuity to rig up something that would work.

* * *

Once the Doctor was confident that the small room was warming up nicely and that the fire was burning well on its own, he sat down in an armchair next to the couch where Martha was resting. He hadn't been able to heal the fracture outright. The sonic screwdriver wasn't made for work this delicate and the equipment in the medical bay had no power. He had been able to inject her with a solid dose of nanogenes that should enhance her innate healing abilities well beyond normal human capacity. As far as he could tell, she was healing well, but it would take at least two more days until she was up to walking around again. They didn't have that much time. He needed to find help because they weren't getting off this planet without it. With only the sonic screwdriver to help him, he'd only been able to determine that the TARDIS wasn't so much drained of energy, as it had shut down, for some reason unknown to the Doctor and he was unable to bring her back on-line. He wasn't sure what sort of help he was looking for, but at the moment, food and a warm place to stay seemed like a good start.

* * *

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and immediately realized that he should have put on a different coat, one that was more suited to the temperature. The TARDIS had landed in what looked like an alley. There were high buildings on both sides, but they looked abandoned, some of the windows were broken and there was no light behind them. A second later, he realized why. The air was heavily polluted. It was nothing he could taste, nothing most humanoids would have been able to detect, but it was there and it was wrong. Wrong, as in not belonging in this place. It didn't even belong in this universe, not in any universe obeying the same natural laws as the one he was familiar with. Its structure was completely alien, even to him. Puzzled, the Doctor continued his exploration.

The alley led out into a larger street from which more streets branched off to both sides. Everything was deserted, the buildings abandoned for what had to be decades. There was no sign of any other living being. This was getting him nowhere. He looked around, spying a fire escape leading up one of the buildings a bit further down the street. He went to take a closer look. The installation looked rusty, but solid enough to hold his weight.

The Doctor climbed up the fire escape until he reached the roof of the building. It stood higher than most surrounding structures, allowing him a good view of the area. Everything looked familiar somehow, not just in a general way, like many of the planets and times he had visited bore some general resemblance to each other, but he was certain he had seen the same expanse of buildings before, sometime, someplace. What he definitely hadn't seen before was the huge doomed structure that dominated the view. It was only one or two kilometres away, but more importantly – it looked like someone was home. Smoke was rising from several large chimneys. Good news, the Doctor decided, not least because whatever substance was polluting the air wasn't agreeing too well with his biochemistry. He could feel his lungs starting to burn and his throat felt just a little bit constricted. It wouldn't be a good idea to stay out here any longer than he absolutely had to.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

oOo

It took longer than the Doctor had expected to make his way to the dome. By the time he got within sight of the structure, he could feel the irritation in his lungs distinctly and he had started to develop an irritating cough, not to mention that he was freezing cold. He was more able to resist the cold than a human would, but even he was starting to feel the effects of being out in this weather, rather inadequately dressed.

He was within twenty meters of the edge of the dome, which at this distance seemed to reach as far as the eye could see, when two men in thick black parkas, bright yellow trousers and earmuffs suddenly appeared to step out of the twilight. Before the Doctor could ponder the mystery of their arrival and decide if he had simply not seen them before or whether they had transported there, they were already aiming their blaster rifles at him.

"Hey, I'm the Doctor! I was looking for someone to…" He didn't get any further before a bolt of energy hit him in the leg, causing him to lose his balance and hit the frozen ground face first. Craning his neck to look up from where he was lying in the dirt, he could see the men approaching, their weapons still pointed at him.

"You wouldn't…mind helping me up," the Doctor managed, the pain from where he'd been shot surprisingly intense and spreading out from the injury. The two men stopped in their tracks. Their lips were moving, but he couldn't hear or understand what they were saying. He tried once again to get up on his own, but his limbs wouldn't obey. The men were still standing there, watching him intently. All he could hope for as his eyes drifted shut was that they weren't going to leave him out here to suffocate or freeze to death. That really wasn't how he wanted to finish this lifetime.

* * *

When the Doctor came back to his senses, he quickly found that he still couldn't move or open his eyes. His other senses, however, were still in perfect working order. Wherever he was, it was warm and the air smelled of detergent, but was relatively unpolluted. Despite his current predicament, the Doctor was very relieved that he could breathe freely again. More disconcerting were the voices he could hear. It sounded like they were talking about him and the Doctor didn't like what he was hearing.

"So, he isn't in the database. Is he one of the rejects then?" someone, a man, asked. His voice was firm and demanding, like he was used to having his questions answered promptly. A leader, the Doctor decided.

"All that I can tell you is that the scans confirm that he is definitely an alien and that we haven't come across his species before." The voice was male, the tone slightly irritated.

"In that case, we need to double the patrols. Who knows how many more of his kind are out there? We need to inform Central of this immediately," a third man said, this one sounding worried.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to increase the patrols," the irritated one said.

"Why is that, Dr. Mallory?" At least he knew one of their names now. The Doctor continued to listen closely, as there wasn't much else he could do for the moment.

"We have less than a hundred units of antidote left. I have already treated three cases of exposure this week, not counting him," Dr. Mallory replied.

"In that case, let's just inform Central and let them deal with the decisions. Now, what about him? Should we just toss him back on the street? We can't really afford any disruptions at the moment. Not with the performance reviews coming up at the end of the month."

"No, we keep him. You said the scan had detected some unusual psychic potential, Dr. Mallory?" the leader asked.

"Yes, that is, it would be unusual for you or me, but for his species it might be perfectly…"

"Can you suppress it?" the leader said, cutting him off.

"Probably. But there could be adverse reactions, possibly fatal. There is no telling…" Dr. Mallory again wasn't able to finish his sentence, when he was interrupted by the leader.

"Just make sure that he's ready for work by start of shift tomorrow."

He could hear the sound of footsteps. The Doctor could make out two distinct sets, one heavier, one lighter, both moving away from his position. Moments later, a third set of footsteps started moving in his direction. The Doctor once again tried to open his eyes. To his surprise, he managed to open them a crack this time. It took a lot of effort, but he could see a sliver of the world around him. Before he had a chance to make out any of the blurred outlines, a face moved into his field of vision. It was a kind face, intelligent grey eyes behind wire-framed lenses, head surrounded by a halo of white hair. He, Dr. Mallory, the Doctor assumed, smiled when he saw the Doctor looking at him, but there was only sadness in his eyes.

"I'm really sorry. But as you will soon understand, none of us has a choice." The man turned away, out of his field of vision.

"Always…choices´." the Doctor had to struggle to make his body comply in synch with his mind. He wasn't sure he was pulling it off as his voice sounded slurred and unintelligible to his ears. But apparently, Dr. Mallory had understood him.

At least the Doctor had gotten his attention.

"Not here, there aren't any choices here. There is no free will here."

"Why?" It was frustrating, but he was limited to one word sentences, at least until the paralysing effects of whatever he'd been shot with wore off.

"The NVI--the neural viral implant. They use it to control people, switch off their free will and their personalities. All they are left to care about is the mission." Dr. Mallory sounded bitter and not at all like the Machiavellian villain proudly laying out his evil scheme before trying to kill him. If anything, it sounded like he might be the one on the Doctor's side in all of this, given a little bit of convincing. And the Doctor was good at that, at least when he was able to talk.

"If you are lucky, your physiology won't take to the implant." That probably would be the fatal adverse reactions that had been mentioned earlier. The Doctor wasn't exactly eager to find out, even if the alternative didn't sound the least bit appealing either. But as long as he was alive, there was always a chance he might find his way out, back to Martha and the Doctor. Instead, if that NVI thing messed up his body too badly, he might not even be able to regenerate.

"Let m'go," the Doctor settled for a plea, physically unable to launch into a convincing argument. He didn't think it would do any good, but it wasn't like him to just sit by and watch disaster unfolding, especially not when he was right in the middle of it. But Dr. Mallory only shook his head. "I'm so sorry. The only thing I can do for you is to make it as painless as possible. Not that you will remember, but I have never believed that it is right to let people suffer unnecessarily."

The Doctor wanted to protest, but he'd already felt the faint prick of a needle in the side of his neck. He almost felt the drug making his way through his vascular system. He felt his heart rhythm speed up. He consciously tried to slow his hearts, but the effect of the drug was too powerful. The last thing he knew was his body launching into a seizure before he lost consciousness, knowing he might never wake up. Despite what Dr. Mallory had told him, he didn't want to die.

* * *

Martha lazily opened her eyes, feeling like she had just woken from a long, deep sleep. Looking around, she found that much to her surprise, she was neither at home, nor in her room in the TARDIS. Best she could tell, she was in a study of some sort. The warm light of the fireplace in the wall opposite the couch where she'd been resting illuminated a small, windowless room with worn hardwood flooring and a collection of apparently random antique furnishings. There was an ornate wooden desk with a chair behind it, an out of place hat-stand beside it and an armchair in the other corner. Everything looked perfectly peaceful, but still Martha had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong, she was certain. She got her first clue when she tried to get up and a sharp pain in her back immediately brought her to her knees. Her legs seemed to be made of rubber and it took considerable effort to pull herself back onto the couch. Her brain was slowly coming back on-line, leading her to wonder what exactly had happened. The last she recalled clearly was being in the TARDIS with all hell breaking loose around her after the Doctor had received a shock from that dreadful armband. Examining her own left wrist, Martha could see the faint remnants of a bruise, but the armband was gone. Which meant most likely that the Doctor had found a way to remove it, which in turn meant that he had probably recovered from the shock he had received earlier. Martha was both relieved and surprised at the conclusion, especially since the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't like him to just leave her here – wherever here was exactly. More careful this time, she made another attempt to get to her feet. Supporting herself on the edge of the couch and then on the wall, she managed to cross the room and make her way to the desk where she'd spotted an envelope on the otherwise empty surface. It was addressed to her. Grateful to be able to sit down again, Martha sank down on the chair and reached for the envelope. Tearing it open, she pulled out a single sheet of paper, covered in unfamiliar handwriting.

Martha read the letter twice, then checked her watch. She had never been sure if it worked right inside the TARDIS or if it was just her mind playing tricks on her, making it appear that time seemed to stand still while she was inside the TARDIS. She decided to give the Doctor forty-eight hours, and then she'd go looking for him, assuming that by then she'd be able to walk without support. In fact she was surprised she was able to walk at all. The memory was a bit vague, but she did remember thinking that she must have broken her back for sure.

* * *

The Doctor took a sip of lukewarm tea, still not used to the fact that he couldn't taste anything. Taste was the worst, but all his senses were dulled. He felt like he was under water and even this level of awareness took considerable effort and constant struggle against the NVI.

To his considerable surprise, he had survived the implantation without regenerating or any serious ill effects, for that matter. Aside from having a piece of circuitry stuck in his brain that was trying to control his thoughts. Under other circumstances, he might have appreciated this incredibly sophisticated piece of micro-engineering, but having to fight for every thought was more than just draining his energy. He'd developed a steadily worsening headache, which he knew was only a first sign of the long-term effects struggling against the NVI would have on his body. He needed to get out as soon as possible.

That was easier said than done. Since his waking up in the infirmary with what he could only compare to a massive hangover, he had been assigned to a sort of think-tank where between dutifully putting in his fourteen hours a day for the past three days, he was also trying to both figure out what was going on inside the dome and trying not to draw attention to himself.

It hadn't taken him long to learn that almost all information was strictly on a need-to-know basis inside the dome, and there was a lot that he wasn't supposed to be concerned with, but that he was rather interested in--such as the nature of the mission Dr. Mallory had mentioned in the infirmary and who or what was behind the term 'Central'.

The bell announcing the end of the recreation period sounded in the large cafeteria, bringing his attention back to the present. The Doctor suppressed a sigh, drained the rest of his tea and prepared to return to work to complete the rest of his shift. As he let the NVI take over for a moment, letting it guide him through the corridors, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the tall blonde woman who had been sitting two chairs over get up seconds later and follow him.

He had yet to learn her name, even though they were working in the same unit. The way she seemed to be glued to him even when they were on break made him suspicious. He was certain that whoever was running the dome was keeping an eye on him. The people in charge, whoever they were, might trust that the NVI worked with the native population, but they clearly weren't as confident when it came to him.

The blonde entered the office-like workroom just a few steps behind him. As the Doctor headed over to his desk, he could see her talking to the supervisor out of the corner of his eye, no doubt reporting back to him. While the Doctor didn't like being the subject of such close observation, he had no concrete reason to be worried. He didn't have anything resembling an escape plan. The plan was to keep his mouth shut and simply listen and that way figure out where he was, what was going on and how he'd get back to Martha and the TARDIS.

He took a seat at his desk, giving a quick nod to Robert, a heavy-set white haired man with whom he shared a desk.

"Had a good break?"

"Sufficient," Robert replied without looking up from the file he was reading. It was delivered in the same monotonous and slightly dismissive tone of voice that marked the replies to all efforts at small talk he'd made.

Normally one for the straightforward approach, the Doctor had to admit that things weren't going to be as easy as just asking someone and hoping to get information in return. All the fast talk wasn't going to help him when dealing with the people controlled by the NVIs. He suspected that they were physically unable of telling him what he wanted to know, if they even knew themselves. The Doctor could feel the tug of the implant every time his thoughts veered off the menial tasks he was assigned to. Finding it easier to give in for the moment, the Doctor turned to the papers on his desk.

The calculations, data from a mining survey, if he wasn't mistaken, were well below his level of ability and while he had been given continuously more challenging tasks over the past three days, he was able to finish the work within minutes. Now he was left with hours to pass, having to appear busy. He flipped open a new page in his note pad, and started to draw a chessboard, but soon abandoned the effort. Playing against himself was pointless really, but it was one way he could focus his mind without attracting undue attention. While he had the impression that he was being followed outside the office, no one seemed to care much about what he did at his desk as long as he completed the work he was assigned within the allotted time period. It had struck him as odd, with technology as advanced as the neural viral implants available, that all their work was done using pen, paper and primitive hand-held calculators. It didn't add up and only fuelled his curiosity.

But now that he was in the process of spending another afternoon keeping a low profile, doodling away on a piece of paper and trying to beat himself at imaginary chess, it was starting to sink in that he wasn't getting anywhere. The fight against the implant was getting harder every day and it wasn't just his chess-playing abilities that were suffering. The headaches worked their way up to near-crippling levels, and he'd noticed that his hands were starting to tremble. It hadn't gotten to the point where anyone besides him was likely to notice looking at him, but it was already starting to show in his handwriting.

Just as the Doctor was considering the possibility of having himself sent to the infirmary, not because he thought Dr. Mallory would be able to help him in his capacity as a physician, but because he really wanted another chat with him, his 'shadow', the blonde woman, appeared in front of his desk.

"The research director wishes to see you in his office," she declared, not a hint of emotion in her voice or on her face. "Please follow me."

The Doctor pushed back his chair and got up to follow her.

* * *

The complete lack of colour and emotion that permeated everything under the dome was no less apparent in the boringly functional office of the research supervisor. The Doctor had met the man briefly when he'd been assigned to the think-tank, but hadn't seen him since. Everything operated on a strict hierarchy, and the only people the Doctor had had dealings with so far were the other scientists in his group and the group supervisor. The research director wasn't a particularly imposing man. He looked too young to be this far up the chain of command. For just a brief moment, when he entered the office, the Doctor thought he could detect something akin to fear on the man's pale face, but his expression immediately became neutral again, regarding the Doctor impassively from behind his large desk. He never took his watery-grey eyes off the Doctor as he spoke.

"Your supervisor has reported several instances of unusual behaviour on your part, behaviour that is neither appropriate nor tolerated. It is frankly leading us to question whether the NVI technology is effective in your case and whether this work environment is really the best way for you to contribute to the mission. Although I doubt you would be physically able to work down in the tunnels for long, it is a possibility Central will no doubt be considering." The lack of facial expression and the dull tone of voice made it difficult to tell if it was a threat or a mere observation.

Either way, the Doctor felt uncomfortable standing under the unwavering gaze of the man and for once he wasn't sure what to say. Before he could make up his sluggish mind, the research director already continued in the same monotonous tone of voice. "However, when your…drawings were brought to my attention, I couldn't help but notice that they appear to be very precise maps of the crystal veins underneath the glacier, including some that aren't on any of the maps we've compiled so far. Can you explain to me why that is?"

It took the Doctor a moment to understand what the man was talking about. During the interminable discussion rounds and briefings that filled the long work hours, doodling away on paper was just about the most inconspicuous way of creating something for his mind to focus on. The Doctor wasn't consciously aware that anything he'd drawn actually made sense, but it just went to show how easily his mental control was slipping. Too late to do anything about it now, he thought, but maybe by giving in a little, he'd get some information in return.

"It's simply a matter of refining the calculations that have been previously used to locate the crystal veins and pinpoint possible instabilities. I'd be glad to explain the process to you in greater detail." He hadn't really meant to say the last part, but the NVI was like a voice screaming inside his head. Not only was it generally a very bad idea to interfere in the development of other societies, even if there were no longer any laws that would have prohibited it, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself either.

Luckily, the director didn't seem interested. "I see. I shall pass on your theories to the mining office. They can send a team to verify your theories."

"I would like to have a look at the tunnels myself, if possible. At the moment, these are just predictions. I'd like to refine them as much as possible before any more resources are invested in this line of research." In a way interacting with the people here was like talking to machines, programmed with a single purpose in mind and designed to ignore everything that didn't serve that purpose. It definitely made it easier to trick into trusting him. And there was another advantage as well.

The single-mindedness of everyone around him was, at least for the moment, keeping Martha safe. No one seemed to care where he'd come from before showing up outside the dome. But it had been three days already since he'd left the TARDIS and knowing Martha, and she would only wait for so long until deciding to go after him. In the harsh conditions on the surface, it would be a miracle if Martha made it as far as the dome, before succumbing to cold and pollution.

"I don't think that will be necessary. The tunnels are not a pleasant place to go and they can be quite dangerous. The people down there, they aren't like you or me. They are uncontrollable. They can't be trusted or relied on. There has also been significant melting over the past few weeks. The tunnels could collapse at any moment. I'd hate to lose a man as talented as you, Doctor."

The Doctor fought to keep his voice and facial expression neutral. "That would be counter-productive, I agree. But I think that in going down there myself, I'd be able to further improve my calculations."

The director seemed to be considering his words. "All right. Frankly, no one really understands fully what you are proposing. It will indeed be best if you went down there yourself, if you really think that it is necessary."

"Thank you. I'll get on it now."

* * *

"This is as deep as we've dared to go so far." The primitive elevator that had carried the Doctor and his guide, the assistant director of mining operations, from the mining operation's office down into the depth of the glacier came to a shuddering stop. Down here the air was wet and frigid, the cold seeping mercilessly through the Doctor's clothes. By his estimate they had to be several kilometres from the surface, but they still hadn't broken through the planet's crust.

The Doctor and the assistant mining director stepped off the elevator, into a hall carved into the glacier, branching out from where several tunnels lead deeper into the ice.

"Where do these tunnels lead?" the Doctor asked, looking around himself.

"That's where the mining is done, of course. A rich crystal vein runs somewhere down here, but we haven't been able to pinpoint it exactly. For the moment, we are just trying to cover as much ground as possible and hope that one of the tunnels strikes it."

"I guess that's where I come in." The Doctor consulted the map he'd brought with him. After a moment, he pointed to a tunnel leading out northeast from their position. "This should be closest to the vein."

"If you say so. We haven't actually found anything yet, but let's take a look."

The Doctor wasn't normally prone to claustrophobia, but he felt a twinge when they stepped underneath the frail looking support beam into the tunnel. The ceiling hung low, only a few inches above his head, and would he stretch out his arms, he suspected he would be able to touch the wall to both sides. What he saw next was much more disturbing. He'd heard the sounds echoing through the caverns before, but now he realized they came from pickaxes hitting the ice over and over. The tunnels were being carved into the ice by sheer physical force, without any assistance of machines, pure manual labour carried out by three figures dressed in rags. They, a man and two women, one of whom looked barely taller than the pickaxe she was swinging. They stopped in their tracks, their eyes on the Doctor. He had seen people exploited under appalling conditions on more worlds than he cared to remember, but every time he was shocked and saddened at what people did to one another. The miners were dressed in little more than rags. Each one had a chain around the ankle, linked to a bolt driven solidly into the ice. The chain was barely long enough to let them move through the length of the tunnel.

"The vein should be a meter behind this wall." The Doctor broke the silence and pointed at the wall to their left.

"You heard the man, start digging. The man and woman got to work, but the girl struggled to pick up her pickaxe.

"I meant all of you."

"Don't you see that she can't work?" The man turned around, anger on his gaunt face. "She hasn't had anything to eat in two days. She needs food."

"If she hasn't had any food, it's her fault. Work hard, respect the rules, and you won't go hungry."

"Isn't that a joke! The food we get is barely enough to keep us from starving to death. People are dying every day. Soon you won't have anyone left to do your dirty-work."

"Lucky for us, there will never be a shortage of people like you," the assistant mining director spat.

"Oh yes, you call us rejects because your precious NVIs won't work on us! You use that as an excuse to stick us down here, along with everyone else you don't like!" the man retorted.

The Doctor's attention had been on the argument. He was taken completely by surprise when a hard jerk on his arm caused his feet to slip on the ice. He tried to catch himself, but he was already being yanked back to his feet, an arm looping around his neck like a vice, leaving him to struggle for breath.

"I swear I'll break his neck if you don't get my daughter out of here!" the woman threatened.

The director looked taken aback, shocked even. "I…I don't have this kind of power. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't do that. Only Central can make those kinds of decisions."

"Then go and talk to Central, if you want him to live. And even if you don't care about him, maybe you should worry about yourself a little bit more." The man started to take a swing with his pickaxe.

"I don't think so." From seemingly nowhere, the assistant director pulled a gun. The man lunged at him a split second later and they both went down in a heap. The shot went wide, hitting the ceiling of the tunnel. Ice sprayed down on all of them when the beam of energy hit. With a sickening crunch, cracks appeared in the ceiling. The director was still struggling with the worker, trying to get out from underneath when a big chunk of ice came down on both of them. For a moment, neither of the two moved. Then, with a groan, the worker staggered to his feet, blood running down his face.

"Anthony, are you all right?" the woman asked, her voice shaking, but her arm still firmly around the Doctor's throat.

"I will be once we get out of here."

"And how are we going to do that!?" the woman screamed, apparently only now realizing the full scope of their predicament. The Doctor again tried to speak, but her grip was too tight. So he did the only thing he could think of and elbowed her into the stomach. She gasped, letting go of him instantly. The Doctor surged forwards, slipping again on the ice. He caught himself on his hands and knees.

"The keys, take his keys!" he yelled as he tried to get back to his feet. The cracks in the ceiling were spreading rapidly and smaller chunks of ice were falling down from around the fissures. Underneath the Doctor's hand, a crack appeared in the floor. Anthony only looked at him with glassy eyes. The Doctor swore under his breath as he tried to remove the key ring from the man's belt, a task hindered by cold and stiff fingers. He finally managed to free it.

"My daughter first!" the woman pleaded. The Doctor swiftly unlocked the chains around the girl's ankle, before turning to her mother. As soon as she was free, she pulled the girl into a hug.

"Run! This place is coming down any moment now!" Precious seconds elapsed as he fumbled with the lock around Anthony's ankle. Chunks of ice were raining down around them.

"Go on, run!" he urged Anthony, who still seemed to be in some sort of daze, probably owing to a severe concussion. Anthony finally started staggering towards the exit.

The Doctor was tempted to follow him as fast as he could, but he couldn't leave the director, not if he was still alive. He just bent down to feel for a pulse when everything gave--the floor, the ceiling, the walls, everything. The Doctor felt himself falling faster and faster. Everything around him was white as he fell and fell without end until he knew nothing more.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Wearing the warmest clothes she had been able to find in the incredibly large wardrobe of the TARDIS, Martha opened the door a

Wearing the warmest clothes she had been able to find in the incredibly large wardrobe of the TARDIS, Martha opened the door and stepped outside. The first breath was an instant shock. The cold air burned in her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath, drawing in more frozen air as she coughed convulsively. Leaning against the TARDIS for support, it took a good minute until she could breathe with some normalcy again. Martha straightened herself up and took a first good look around.

There wasn't much to see. The TARDIS had landed in an alleyway, flanked by two buildings. They seemed to be long abandoned. Grey paint was peeling from the walls, some windows were broken, others were blind with dirt. Martha walked out into the street, only to find it flanked by buildings in the same derelict state. There was no sign of anyone actually living in those buildings, at least not any more. Burying her hands deep in the pockets of her coat, Martha looked left, then right, trying to figure out which path the Doctor might have taken. There was nothing standing out in either direction. The Doctor had to have found something, otherwise he'd have returned to the TARDIS long before now. Unless of course he was lying somewhere, frozen solid. But Martha refused to believe that the Doctor would be defeated so easily. He had to have found something for not having returned to the TARDIS.

Walking down the darkened streets, Martha couldn't help but notice how remarkably normal and Earth-like the city seemed. The Doctor hadn't actually taken her to another planet yet, but she imagined that not every place looked this much like Earth. Unfortunately, she had more serious worries at the moment. There was something in the air, more than just the cold. Her lungs and throat were burning even worse now than when she'd come out of the TARDIS. She was starting to feel light-headed, and it wasn't the cold. Part of her wanted to turn back and return to the TARDIS, but she knew this wasn't a solution. She couldn't stay in there forever and the Doctor might still need her help. So she pressed on, walking down street after street, trying to memorize her path. There was nothing, nothing stood out and there was no sign the Doctor had even been there. He might simply have walked away from the TARDIS in the other direction, Martha realized. There was little point in going on. Martha never liked to admit defeat, but at the moment, she didn't see how she could do anything either for the Doctor or herself.

She was about to turn back when she caught a glimmer in the corner of her eyes. She stopped and looked around. There it was again, light flickering behind the windows on the top floor of one of the buildings across the street. Not hesitating for a moment, Martha crossed the street. There was a storefront on the ground floor, the window broken. Martha stepped inside, taking care not to cut herself on the edges of the glass. Once inside, she paused, listening for any sounds coming from above. There was the definite sound of footsteps, and she thought she could hear voices as well. It took her a few moments to gather her bearings in the dark room, which appeared to have been a shop a long time ago, but she found a flight of stairs behind a steel door at the back-end and started to climb upstairs.

She reached the first floor and found it deserted, equally so the second floor. Climbing up further, she was sure she could hear voices as well. She couldn't make out what they were saying, and she wasn't even sure they were speaking English. With the TARDIS pretty much broken, Martha wasn't sure what to expect. The ship normally translated everything that was written or spoken in any language seamlessly into English. She had been able to read the letter the Doctor had left her, but in her exploration of the TARDIS, she had also stumbled across a library which had been filled with books written in exotic, probably alien scripts.

Reaching the end of the stairs, Martha found herself faced with another steel door, leaning ajar. It screeched loudly as she pushed it open. She waited for a moment, standing in the doorframe, listening for any sign that the noise had been hard. There was a bang, from a door or something clattering to the floor, but the sound was only followed by silence. Martha couldn't help but feel a little spooked as she headed into the dark corridor leading away from the landing. It was almost totally dark, and she now regretted not having brought a torch from the TARDIS. One hand trailing along the rough wall, the other stretched out in front of her, she inched her way forwards. She heard another bang, and then suddenly, a light was in her face, so bright that she had to close her eyes.

"Who is there?" she asked, but instead of an answer, a heavy object struck her from behind. She fell into darkness as pain exploded in her head.

* * *

The throbbing ache in the back of her head was the first thing Martha became aware of as she slowly drifted back to consciousness. Both the pain and the queasiness in her stomach made it seem prudent to hold off on moving for the moment. Martha settled for opening her eyes. A ceiling covered in peeling paint came into view, not revealing much about her location. She turned her head to the side to get a better idea of where she was, but the pain immediately intensified and the vague queasiness made way to nausea. Definitely concussed, Martha diagnosed. She belatedly noticed that the urge to cough had vanished. It felt like a tight band that had been wrapped around her lungs had been removed and she could breathe normally again. It was warmer, too. It wasn't warm, but no longer freezing cold, but she was fairly certain she wasn't inside the TARDIS. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the TARDIS had a very peculiar atmosphere, something intangible hanging in the air, like a vibration just a little too soft to be felt consciously. Maybe it was because the TARDIS was alive somehow; at least that was the impression she always got when she watched the Doctor interact with his ship. He treated her like an old friend, and maybe she was just that. Her attention was diverted from her musings when she heard a door close in the distance, followed by the sound of footfalls.

"I've checked everything. There is no one. She must have been on her own," a man's voice said.

"I wonder what she was doing here. She clearly isn't from the dome. Maybe she's from one of the other free colonies." Martha could hear the shrug in the voice of the young woman who replied.

"Doesn't matter where she's from. We shouldn't have wasted any of our supplies on her!"

"We didn't have much of a choice after you knocked her out. We couldn't very well leave her to die out here." While not very reassured by the rough greeting earlier, Martha took some comfort in the fact that the people in whose company she had involuntarily ended up weren't completely devoid of any conscience.

"Then what do you suggest we do about her? We can't take her with us, she'll only get in the way. We have to move soon, otherwise, they'll change the codes and we'll have come all this way for nothing."

"I won't leave here without my sister, and you know that. It's for her that I'm doing this, no other reason. I didn't ask you to come with me," the woman said angrily, then her voice softened. "I don't want you to end up in the tunnels, too."

"I'm telling you, that won't happen. If we move before the codes are changed, there shouldn't be any problem. They won't know what hit them."

"Are you sure that EMP generator of yours is going to work?"

"Well, I didn't exactly have a chance to test it, but based on everything we know about the implants, they partly rely on the transmission of electrical impulses and with the right frequency, I should be able to disable anyone carrying one."

"If you say so." Her voice was back to annoyed. "I'm going to check on her." Martha heard the ruffling of clothing, followed by the rapid approach of footfalls. A door was opened, and suddenly light fell into the room, blinding her and immediately intensifying her headache.

"You're awake," the woman stated.

Martha blinked, trying to open her eyes against the light. Her head still ached fiercely, but she needed to see who was talking to her.

The woman was younger than Martha would have assumed from the voice. Short and stocky, with red hair and freckles spread over her pale skin, she looked very much human. But knowing the Doctor, Martha knew appearances to be deceiving. The woman stepped closer to Martha, her expression somewhere between curiosity and apprehension. She cocked her head, scrutinizing Martha closely.

"Can you understand us?" she finally asked.

Oddly enough, Martha did.

"I'm Martha," she introduced herself, hoping to break the ice.

"Marion. Not to be rude, but what you are doing here?"

Martha went for the most simple answer. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. We got separated."

Marion nodded, as if she'd expected the reply somehow. "That's sort of why we, Paul and I, are here, too. It's Sina, my sister. We are going to get her out in a few days," Marion told her not without a certain amount of pride.

Despite overhearing their earlier conversation, Martha wasn't sure what Marion was talking about, but she decided to not pursue the issue further for the moment. Her head ached too much to do any serious thinking.

"Do you think you can get up?" Marion extended a hand towards her.

Martha accepted and with Marion's help managed to sit up and couldn't quite suppress a groan. It felt like she had the worst migraine of her life and the room around her had started spinning too. She felt sick.

"I'll get you something to drink. You'll need another dose soon anyways." Another dose of what she didn't say, but Marion disappeared again into the other room.

By the time she returned a few minutes later, the room had stopped spinning and her headache had dropped down a notch, too.

She offered Martha a dirty looking metal cup filled with a murky liquid and two white tablets.

"What are those?"

"Antidote. It's not quite as good as the one they have in the domes, but it still protects us against the pollution," Marion replied with raised eyebrows. Pollution – that had to be what was wrong with the atmosphere, why she'd had trouble breathing before. For a moment, she wondered if it wasn't risky to take a drug on an alien planet, but Marion was already looking at her suspiciously, and she didn't want to get on the wrong side of her and her friend. Martha washed down the two pills with the liquid from the cup, which despite its murky appearance tasted very much like peppermint tea.

"So, can I ask what you have planned for me?" Martha asked, not having missed the gun Marion was wearing in a thigh holster. Even if the other woman hadn't been armed, she would have still depended on her captors for the drug that allowed her to breathe in the polluted atmosphere. Plus their inside knowledge of how this society operated could be the key to finding the Doctor.

"That depends." A man, Paul presumably, entered the room where Martha had been resting. "This friend of yours, he's in the dome, too?"

"I don't know, to be honest. We just got here and got separated. We were actually looking for some help…getting back home."

"I always heard they were a bit backwards in the southern colonies. Apparently, it's true," Paul said and laughed. It was probably intended as an insult, but Martha ignored him. All she cared about was finding the Doctor and getting off this miserable rock of a planet. "But you guys do know about the domes? You do have them down there as well?"

"I'm kind of fuzzy on that," Martha admitted. For the first time, she looked around the room. It appeared to be a hotel room of sorts, right down to the tasteless flowered wallpaper, peeling off in places, and the worn carpet. She even thought she could spot a couple of burn holes in it. It seemed quite a ditch all right. But it was warm, and seemed relatively safe, at least for the moment.

"Must be the concussion," Marion mused. "You did take quite a blow to the head. Perhaps you should try and rest some more. We weren't planning on leaving for a few days."

The prospect of rest seemed pretty appealing right about now. "I think I'll do that."

"I can give you something for the headache," Marion offered, clearly the more compassionate of the pair.

"Better not with a concussion," she declined.

"You have medical training?" Paul asked suddenly.

"I was training to be a doctor once." Somehow that time seemed very far away at the moment, leading her to wonder if she would ever see her family or her classmates again.

"That's good. We could use someone like you at the colony," Paul said, his tone suddenly a lot warmer. "We really should let you get some rest now."

Marion and Paul quietly left the room, but left the door ajar, so that a sliver of light filtered into the bedroom. Martha carefully let herself sink back on the bed, and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she was asleep again.

* * *

It had taken Martha the better part of three days to get over the worst of her concussion. The first two days, she hadn't been aware of much that went on around her.

But it seemed like every time she woke, Marion was there in the room with her. Sometimes, Paul was there as well, and they were talking in hushed tones, but most of the time, it was just Marion, supplying her with tea and more of the mysterious white tablets, and answering her confused questions as well as she could, even though most of it probably didn't make any sense to her. Martha didn't know how much time had passed while she essentially drifted in and out of consciousness. When she'd asked Marion, by the time she was feeling mostly like her old self again and was able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a stretch, almost forty-eight hours had passed.

"Marion."

Marion looked up from the thick volume she was reading.

"Martha. How are you feeling?"

"Better," she answered truthfully, too tired to make a comment about how it had been Paul in the first place who had nearly bashed in her skull. "How long have I been here?"

"Almost two days. Paul's nearly done with the EMP generator. We should be good to go by tomorrow morning."

"Okay. Go where exactly?" Martha asked, her brain still not fully working.

"The dome, of course. That's why we are here. I got out a few years ago during one of the great riots, managed to make it to one of the free colonies. I couldn't take Sina with me because she was too young," Marion said sadly. "I always wanted to go back for her some day. I just wish it could have been sooner, before she got an NVI. It would have been so much easier that way."

"How old is your sister?" Martha asked.

"She is fourteen now. The last time I saw her she was only nine. What about your friend; are you close?"

"I think so," Martha replied, not for the first time wishing she knew a little more about the Doctor, who he was and where he was from. But she'd always gotten the impression that he didn't like to talk about himself. "I haven't really known him that long," she admitted. "But I really need to find him," she added.

Marion looked at her, something akin to surprise on her face.

"You do know that's next to impossible, don't you?"

Martha didn't know what to say.

"You're really not from around here," Marion finally said, as if just realizing now.

"No," Martha hesitated, still not sure how much to reveal. "I'm not."

"How's the head, then?" Marion asked, forcefully changing the subject.

"It's okay." It was true. She could hardly feel the injury anymore, which albeit very unusual, was just as well with her. She needed to keep a clear head, something not easily done when suffering from a concussion.

"Good, because we can't really leave you behind here. The patrols from the dome hardly come out this far, but we're pretty much out of fuel for the heaters."

"I guess I have no choice but to be ready then," Martha said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "What is the plan for tomorrow?" she asked, trying to sound casual and hide both her disappointment and her growing anger at Marion. Rationally, she knew very well that Marion and Paul didn't owe her anything and were under no obligation to help her or the Doctor, but this seemed like her one and only chance to get him back.

Marion hesitated. "The less you know, the better for you. You just follow our lead tomorrow. That way, if we are caught, everyone's protected."

Martha wasn't satisfied with the answer, but decided not to pursue the subject further. There was something about the look in Marion's eyes that made her consider her words carefully. She had no choice but to stick with her new acquaintances, but that didn't mean that she had to trust them.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

oOo

If it hadn't been for the pain, the Doctor would have been sure that he was dreaming

If it hadn't been for the pain, the Doctor would have been sure that he was dreaming. The NVI, the force in his mind that he had been struggling against so hard, was gone. The sense of peace left in its wake was overwhelming. The Doctor just wanted to drink it in and stay like this forever. But the pain was nagging at him, a reminder that somewhere something was wrong. That something needed his attention. Like a slow trickle of water, images, like framed pieces of memory, filtered into his mind. At first they didn't make any sense, not when he was safe and warm and at peace, but slowly they morphed into coherent events and the Doctor started to wonder if he wasn't really still buried under tons of ice, dying of hypothermia right now.  
Increasing his level of awareness slightly, he was able to take an internal inventory. What he found both worried and reassured him. The presence of a number of fractured bones and internal injuries, albeit all nearly healed, made him wonder just how far he'd fallen. Given his track record with this sort of thing, the damage to his body was reassurance that he was still the same man, in the same body. Whatever injuries he had suffered, they hadn't been severe enough to cause him to regenerate. This body was tougher than he would have given himself credit for. Good thing because otherwise, he'd probably not last another decade. All in all, he seemed to be on the mend. With that assessment he came to the realization, that in order to have this intriguing conversation with himself, he had to be awake and might as well open his eyes.

His eyelids were heavy and it took effort to crack them open. When he finally succeeded and the blurred shapes in front of his eyes merged into a complete image, he was able to attest that he definitely was back in the infirmary of the dome and no longer buried under tons of ice deep down in the tunnels beneath the glacier. Given what happened, it seemed like tempting fate, but he still decided to try and move…just a little. His whole body was sore, but he managed to sit up. The action caused his head to spin and he had to close his eyes for a moment to ward off the dizziness.

"Doctor?"

He opened his eyes, searching for the source of the familiar voice. Dr. Mallory was standing at his bedside.

"Hi, there," the Doctor greeted him cheerfully.

"How am I?"

"I…I'm very surprised to see you awake, at all. You were badly injured when the tunnel collapsed and I didn't think that…but now, you are fine," he finished, obviously finally understanding what the Doctor really wanted to know. "I was just paying back what I owed. The girl and her mother you saved down in the tunnels – they are my daughter and my grandchild. I thought I'd never see them again, but now they've been reassigned, at least for the moment." Dr. Mallory smiled warmly.

"What prompted the change of heart?" The Doctor hadn't thought 'Central' or whoever was really in charge of the mining operations to be the bleeding-heart type.

"I don't know," Dr. Mallory admitted. "I'm as surprised as you are. No one comes back from the tunnels. The order must have come straight from Central. Only they have that kind of authority."

"That's interesting. Hypothetical question, purely hypothetical, nothing but scientific curiosity...," the Doctor began.

"Curiosity is a very dangerous thing around here, Doctor. You have already drawn attention to yourself by saving their lives. You don't want to do anything rash, or you too could end up in the tunnels one day."

"What is really happening down in these tunnels? Why is that crystal so important?"

"Too many questions. I can't answer this one. I don't know myself."

"Looks like I'll have to find out myself. Can you do me another favour, Dr. Mallory?"

"If I can, yes. I owe you. What is it?"

"I might have a plan but it relies on you doing a bit of re-engineering for me. Instead of suppressing my psychic abilities, can you enhance them as well?"

"Theoretically, yes. But I wouldn't do it. It would be dangerous, too dangerous for you. Not to mention that now really isn't the moment to draw attention to yourself. Many people would have been relieved if that fall had killed you. You don't want to do them any favours."

"Never was much of a people-pleaser." The Doctor shrugged. "How did I get out anyways?"

"The emergency transport system, of course."

"Really? And who would be able to authorize its use?"

"Uhm, that could only be Central or the security office," Dr. Mallory answered after some consideration. "Why are you asking?"

"Oh, as I said, I'm just curious." Indeed, the Doctor had many more questions, but he wasn't entirely sure he could trust Dr. Mallory. He knew almost certainly more than he was saying.

"I'll better go and report your recovery then. There is just one last thing. I wanted to give you this." Dr. Mallory pulled the sonic screwdriver from the pocket of his white coat and handed it to the Doctor. He continued in a low voice, "Give me a few days to do some research, I promise I will help you. You are not the only man with a plan, Doctor."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. It was a long shot, but if he couldn't go to the TARDIS, the TARDIS would have to come to him.

oOo

Martha had forgotten all about how cold it really was outside. It hadn't been exactly warm and cosy in their hideout in the building, but the heaters had provided some semblance of warmth that was completely absent outside. Marion and Paul were making their way through the deserted city with apparent ease, but although she almost had trouble keeping up with the pace, at least it kept her reasonably warm. It once again struck her how remarkably Earth-like this world was, at least aside from the hostile climate. As they passed a weathered shop window, she realized something that had been nagging in the back of her mind ever since she'd first stepped out of the TARDIS on this planet.

If the TARDIS was broken, why was it that she could understand Marion and Paul? And the adverts in the shop's window? She had first wondered about that when reading the Doctor's letter, but then again, she had assumed that whatever the Doctor's native language was, he had been around Earth long enough to master the English language of the early 21st Century, and that of most other time periods too probably. But she really shouldn't be able to understand Marion and Paul. To her, they appeared to be speaking English. Martha wondered what the odds were of them having arrived on Earth after all, possibly some time into her future. It was a disheartening thought, that her planet's future could be this bleak, but after having seen the state of things on New Earth, she wouldn't be too surprised. She was thinking about how she could casually ask what planet they happened to be on, when she realized that Marion and Paul were no longer ahead of her. Martha broke into a run. The cold air burned in her lungs as she hurried down the street. They were nowhere to be seen. Out of breath after just a few dozen feet, Martha stopped, bent down, hands braced on her knees and tried to catch her breath. She had to think logically. Martha turned in a circle, once, then again. There had to be something she missed. Despite the pervasive twilight hanging over the streets, the view down the street was unobstructed. When she turned around for the third time, she spotted the narrow gap between two houses to her right. She walked over and saw that it was really a narrow stairwell, presumably leading down to a cellar. She carefully went down the worn steps into the darkness. She couldn't help but wonder if Marion and Paul had lost her deliberately. She didn't really trust them and had gotten the clear impression that they were only reluctantly taking her along. She nearly didn't pick up on it over the howling of the wind, but she now thought she could hear someone down in the cellar. Hoping she would find her acquaintances, she climbed down the last of the steps, now almost in total darkness and inched her way forwards, one hand stretched out in front of her, the other trailing along the wall. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand landed on her shoulder. Martha spun around and was instantly blinded as a light flashed in her face.

"There you are!" It was Marion's voice.

"Where have you been?" Martha asked. Marion finally turned away the light, but didn't answer her question. "Let's go."

Marion turned on her heel. Martha followed her deeper into the cellar, the torch now illuminating their path.

They met Paul in one of the back rooms. It looked like it had been a wine cellar at some point. Most of the bottles were either smashed or simply gone, but the racks lining the walls gave away the former purpose of the room. Now, Paul was standing at the far end of the long and narrow room. There was a doorway in the wall. It had been boarded up, but Paul was already prying away the panels.

"Where does this lead?" Martha asked.

"To the dome," Marion replied. "There are hundreds of these tunnels underneath the city. Most of them have been closed and filled up, but not all of them."

oOo

"This way." Marion looked up from the handmade gizmo she was holding. It looked like a refurbished Walkman, but whatever it was, it seemed to serve as a sort of locating device. Martha followed Marion down the hallway. It felt like they had been navigating the maze of corridors for hours, but when Martha checked her watch, she found it had only been twenty minutes since they had reached the dome.

Martha followed Marion around a bend, down a hallway, around another bend and through a doorway until they finally stepped back out of the building, but still underneath the protective bubble of the dome that stretched far overhead. They had entered what looked suspiciously like the prison exercise yard where the Doctor and Martha had been accorded their daily hour of fresh air less than a week ago. The yard was surrounded by buildings on all sides and there was little decorative about it. What really struck Martha, however, was how quiet it was. There had to be close to fifty people in the yard, gathered at the stone tables or standing around in small groups, but hardly anyone was talking. They seemed to just stand there in silence. Not even Martha and Marion's arrival sparked much more interest than a few disinterested glances. Despite knowing how small the chances were of the Doctor being amongst the group, Martha still found her eyes searching the yard, looking for him.

Meanwhile, Marion had made her way to one of the stone tables. A group of women, although some of them couldn't be older than in their teens, sat there. Now up close, Martha could see that their clothes were worn and rumpled,

"Sina?" Marion asked, her voice trembling slightly. A girl with clear resemblance to Marion looked up at them.

"Marion, what are you doing here?" The girl's voice was toneless and without expression.

"I've come to take you home," she explained, reaching out a hand for her sister's shoulder.

Sina shook her off with a cry. "No you can't!" she yelled. Martha looked around in panic. They were bound to attract attention behaving this way.

"What the hell are you doing?" Martha exclaimed when she saw Marion pull her gun out of the holster. She aimed at her sister and pulled the trigger. Martha lept forward, catching Sina just before she crumpled to the ground. Martha quickly checked her over and found her still breathing steadily.

"She'll be fine," Marion replied coldly, reholstering her gun. "She'll come around in a few minutes, when her NVI resets." Martha didn't understand, but there wasn't time for questions. Unfortunately, they had finally gotten the attention of the other workers. The woman who had been sitting with Sina at the table had backed away from Marion and Martha, standing at a distance, but watching them closely.

"What about everyone else? What about us?" Martha asked, the larger issues in mind. She was used to the Doctor's plans having a habit of not working out, but she wasn't even certain that what Marion and Paul were doing here could be called a plan. It just seemed to be a bad idea from the start. Even if Martha was sympathetic to the idea of freeing these people, no one would benefit if they ended up as part of the involuntary work-force as well.

"Paul should come through any moment," Marion replied, but she sounded tense and worried. Martha couldn't blame her. "He's got the access codes for the transporters that will get us out of here."

Martha doubted that it was as easy as Marion made it sound. While they had managed to avoid running into any security forces on their way in, Martha doubted that Marion and Paul carried their weapons just for show. Marion had not hesitated shooting her own sister and she doubted that Paul would have any calms about using his weapon either.

"What about the rest of them? Surely they don't deserve…" Martha repeated her earlier question. If there was really some sort of transport system that could get them out the dome, then they might be able to liberate at least everyone in the yard.

"It's too dangerous," Marion replied, much to Martha's surprise. The whole operation looked beyond dangerous to her and she was admittedly more than a little bit concerned about a positive outcome. "Even if we got them out of here, most of them are still going to die. It's better for them to stay here."

Martha was about to ask her what she meant when a bell sounded somewhere overhead. The workers suddenly seemed to lose all interest in the intruders and started to neatly file out of the yard.

"Damn," Marion muttered. "What's taking him so long?! We…" she was cut of by a scream. Alarmed, Martha turned, looking for the source of the sound. It had come from the doorway. Something was happening there. Leaving Marion and Sina for the moment, Martha made her way over there to see what the commotion was about.

At first she couldn't see anything. The workers were crowding around the exit. Only when she pushed her way past two girls, she saw that there was an elderly woman lying on the ground. Martha could smell the burnt flesh before she saw the horrific injuries. Third degree burns covered the woman's chest, neck and face. Instinct and training made Martha surge forwards, but a vice-like grip on her arm pulled her back. She stumbled backwards, losing her balance for the moment. It was only from there that she could see why she had been pulled back. It looked a bit like the air on a hot summer day, vibrating with the heat. Except, it was all around them and it was closing in.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

oOo

The Doctor was used to his plans having a habit of not working out, so he was all the more surprised that his latest scheme was proceeding according to schedule and all he'd spent so far was a day and a half. That was a good thing because since Dr. Mallory had come through with the NVI modification for him, he was running on borrowed time.

He considered himself to be a fairly accomplished telepath, but the sudden and brutal increase of his abilities had brought on more than just the foreseen physical strain. He hadn't expected it to be so challenging to keep the many foreign thoughts out of his own mind. But there was no backing out now. The ability to read other people's thoughts at will, which while unethical presented a serious advantage and he had allowed him to easily obtained a transfer to the dome's security office. It was only from there that he had access to the teleportation system. He had manoeuvred himself into the position where he was tasked with increasing the range of the system, giving him full access to the control computer. The system was pretty complex and much more advanced than he would have given these people credit for, but it hadn't taken him more than a few hours of concentrated effort to understand what he needed. Fortunately, the dome wasn't too far from where to TARDIS had landed, just at the edge of the transporters' range. After he'd established that, it was only a matter of concealing the transport itself from the watchful eyes of his colleagues and more importantly that of the central computer, he ready to put the next phase of his plan into action.

He was in the process of writing a programme to do just that when the door to the security office burst open with a bang. He immediately sensed the wave of hostility radiating from the young man standing in the doorframe and he also knew what was going to happen next. Still, he was unable to duck in time and the first shot from the blaster hit him straight in the chest. It wasn't even painful – it was like his muscles had instantly been turned to jell-o. He crumpled to the floor and was just conscious long enough to see his colleagues get shot one by one offering little resistance. The sound of an alarm wailing loudly filled his ears and it was the last thing he knew.

oOo

The Doctor woke with a gasp as the NVI painfully rebooted. Taking a quick mental inventory, he found to his surprise that the shot hadn't harmed him in the least. All it had done was disable his NVI and hence him for exactly 26 seconds. Around him, his colleagues were still unconscious. He jumped to his fee and took a better look around. The young man with the gun had his back turned to him, working feverishly at one of the computer terminals, but the Doctor saw all he needed to see on the huge monitor that dominated the wall above the terminal. Normally it displayed hundreds of surveillance feeds from around the dome, but now only a single image filled the screen. It was an image of one of the recreation yards, unpleasant concrete structures where the workers were allowed to spend their free time. A group of fifty or so workers was huddled together in the center, fear on their faces. But it was one face that stood out from the crowd, one face that he recognized immediately. Martha. And then the Doctor realized what was going on. It was an HEFF, a high energy force field as they called it in the security office. It was thought of as a last resort, in case a riot broke out and the work force became uncontrollable. Now it was closing in on Martha and the workers. They had only seconds left, before they burned alive. The Doctor raced back over to his desk. The programme he had been writing was only half-finished, but he had no other choice. He needed to get Martha and the workers out of there before they were all burned to a crisp. The Doctor activated the transporters. They weren't designed to carry so many people at once and he could only hope that their energy signatures wouldn't be scrambled in transit, leading to their gruesome and painful deaths.

oOo

"Move back, move back," Martha yelled, trying to get the workers to back away from the force field. Slowly, they seemed to realize what was going on and soon the group was gathered in the middle of the recreation area, the force field still closing in on them.

Martha could now feel the heat on her skin as the force field was moving closer, now only ten feet away from the group and closing in fast. Martha looked over to Marion in the unlikely hope that the other woman somehow knew of a way out, but she only saw her own fear reflected on Marion's face. It was now less than five feet away and still closing in. In a matter of seconds, the first people would be burned. The body of the elderly woman who had been the first to die was now nothing more than charred husk lying in the distance. The fore field was within less than a foot of them when a blindingly bright light filled the yard. Martha had to close her eyes. A second later, the light was gone and everything was silent. The smell of burnt flesh was gone too. Martha carefully opened her eyes. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when she could see again, it was a familiar sight.

They were inside the TARDIS and the TARDIS was no longer swathed in complete darkness, instead a dim glow from the central column illuminated the console room. Martha's heart leapt at the sight. The Doctor, it had to be his doing that had saved them. Not only her, Marion and the workers, they were all there, with her in the large TARDIS console room.

"What are you smiling about?" Marion came up to her, regarding her surroundings with suspicion. If she was surprised at all, she was hiding it very well beneath her sharp tone of voice.

"We're going to be all right," Martha declared joyfully. "We are going to be all right." She'd just finished speaking when the characteristic sounds of the TARDIS engines started filling the room. Everything around them started to vibrate and shake, but they seemed to be taking off. It only lasted for a second, then the TARDIS went dark and still again. Not sure if they had gone anywhere, Martha made for the door and opened it.

What lie outside didn't look much more inviting than the dead city had - a bunch of barracks stretching along a dirt road in the twilight, but Martha was confident that the Doctor had sent them there for a reason.

"I don't believe this. It can't be," Marion said, standing behind her and looking over Martha's shoulder.

"Do you know where we are?" Martha asked, turning around to face her.

"Of course! It's the free colony, our colony," Marion said and smiled broadly. "I don't know how you did it, Martha, but you saved us!" Marion pulled her into a hug.

"Ugh." Martha extricated herself from the embrace. She was going to comment on how it had all been the Doctor's doing when she saw a group of armed men approaching the TARDIS, weapons aimed straight at them.

Marion pushed her way past Martha, stepping out of the TARDIS and towards the men.

"It's all right," she called out and waved at them, obviously knowing them. "It's all right. It's us."

oOo

Only twelve hours into her stay at the free colony, Martha was cold, hungry and wondering why the Doctor would have sent her there of all the places he could have sent the TARDIS. Their hide-out in the derelict hotel seemed luxurious compared to the conditions here at the free colony. Housed under a dome of its own, the colony consisted of an assortment of barracks and tents set along dirt roads. The medical facilities were equally basic. The infirmary was housed in one of the larger tents, which was also home to a laboratory of sorts.

Together with several people from the colony, Martha and Marion had herded the frightened workers into the largest barrack that appeared to serve as a communal cafeteria. While others went to find food and warmer clothes for the new arrivals, Marion had introduced Martha to Jasper, the colony medic. Jasper had immediately admitted that he had no medical training, except some basic skills gleaned from his father, who in turn had learned from his father who had been a studied physician, whatever that meant. He had shown her around the infirmary, not that there was a lot to see. It was from him that she had learned about the NVIs and realized in just how much trouble the Doctor was. Still, the fact that he had saved all their lives gave her some hope that he was able to fight against the implant somehow, as Jasper said some people were, although those usually faced an even worse fate. Martha wasn't sure what was worse. Being turned into a mindless zombie or being cured of the NVI. At first she'd been filled with hope at hearing that there was treatment available to counteract the virus that made the NVIs work, but then she had seen that treatment in action. She stood there as Marion watched her sister die in agony, along with many more of the workers. It had turned out that the anti-viral treatment had side-effects that were extremely painful for the patients and at least with the standard of care available at the colony often fatal.

Martha had had patients die before in her care during her time at the Royal Hope, but never like this. By the time she found a quiet moment to lie down on one of the bunks in the back room of the infirmary, twelve hours had passed and twenty-one of the workers had died in agony. Martha bit back a sob when she lowered her head on the lumpy pillow. She wasn't cracking up, she told herself. She could do this, she had to. But the hopelessness cut deep. Seeing the workers had driven home the fact that there was nothing she could do for the Doctor, Even if he managed to break free of the dome, there was still the NVI. If they had so little success in removing it from their own people, what chance did they have to remove the insidious device from an alien.

Martha sighed and sat back up. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. There was no way she could sleep, not with the screams of the workers echoing inside her head and the worry for the Doctor gnawing at her insides.

"Martha?" Martha looked up to see Marion standing in the doorway. Her eyes were puffy and red. She looked like she had been crying.

"Martha, I'm sorry," she said in a small voice.

Martha looked at her, stunned. It was the last thing she had expected her to say. She had expected anger, rage even. Sina had been one of the unfortunate ones, she hadn't survived the treatment. Marion had been right by her side the entire time.

"For what?" Martha asked when Marion remained standing right where she was.

"I know what could happen when I decided to break out Sina. You didn't. I have no idea who you really are and where you are from, but I know I shouldn't have brought you here."

"It's me who should be sorry, Marion. I couldn't do anything to help your sister or the others. I wasn't any help at all." Martha shook her head. "I couldn't have gone through with this, if I had been in your place. To be honest, I'm almost glad that we didn't get the...my friend out. I couldn't have watched him die like that."

"I couldn't bear the thought of my sister living like that. I know she wouldn't want it any more than I would in her place," Marion said fiercely.

"I'm just not sure I could do the same for my friend, if I had to make that choice. I admire that you could go through with it," Martha meant it.

"I really only came here to tell you that the colony council wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning. They have many questions. About who you are and how you saved all of us."

Martha's heart sank. She should have known that this was going to happen. She couldn't really expect these people to just accept her without question.

"What time is it now?"

"Just past 5 a.m.," Marion told her. "Do you want to come for a bite to eat?"

Martha hesitated for a moment, she still felt responsible for the patients in her care.

Marion seemingly read her mind. "It's okay. Jasper is there."

"Okay," Martha agreed.

oOo

Martha felt the glances of suspicion on her back as she walked down the dirt road back to the TARDIS. Her meeting with the colony council, the equivalent to the local government had gone as well as she had expected.

They hadn't believed her. They had asked the same questions over and over again - who she was and where she'd come from, how she'd saved the workers from the force field and what the strange phone box she'd brought was. Martha had tried to answer their questions as best as she could. She had tried to tell the truth, feeling that she had had no other choice. She had told them that she had come from a place called Earth, another planet and that she was travelling with a stranger called the Doctor, who was from yet another planet. They had only laughed at her and looked at her like she was crazy.

After what had seemed like hours of questioning, they had finally let her go. Martha couldn't bear going back to the infirmary. There was nothings she could do there anyways. Jasper, for all the training he lacked, was doing a good job with what little the colonists had at their disposal. Plus, he knew more about the NVI than she did. Martha sighed and pulled out her key to the TARDIS. She unlocked the door and walked into the comforting darkness of the TARDIS. It was literally all she had left. The door closed behind her. Martha let herself sink down to the floor, back pressed against the wall. She had no more strength left. It had all been too much and the hopes she had been clinging to so desperately had been shattered.

oOo

The sound of someone pounding against the door woke Martha. Martha tiredly pushed herself to her feet. She didn't know how long she had slept. She recalled dreaming, but not the contents of her dreams. She hadn't even left the console room. She had been too tired, too exhausted. Then the tears had come. She had tried to hold them back, but she'd failed. Not that it would have mattered - there was no one to see her crack up. And no one to cheer her up and tell her that everything was going to be all right, either.

Martha walked over to the door and opened it. She wasn't surprised to see Marion standing outside. She was the only one who seemed to even remotely care what happened to her. Marion smiled when she saw Martha.

"I'm sorry about what happened." Marion told her. "I jus wanted to make sure that you were all right. Have you eaten anything yet today?"

Martha checked her watch. She had slept for almost ten hours. She rubbed a hand over her face. She still felt tired and cold, now even more so than before. Without power, the TARDIS provided little protection from the harsh conditions outside.

"I brought you something hot to drink." Marion handed her what looked like a thermos flask. Martha unscrewed the cap and sniffed at the contents. It smelled like peppermint tea.

"Thanks. But you don't have to do this." Still, Martha was grateful for Marion's kindness. "Have they made a decision yet?" she asked, referring to what the council had said earlier that day.

"It's going to be discussed tonight. With decisions like that everyone at the colony gets a say. It's the way we handle things here."

"There will be a vote?"

"Yes. To decide if you are allowed to stay here with us. You have to understand, resources are very scarce here and it will already be very difficult to cope with everyone we've brought in yesterday. If you just told us the truth, I believe they would let you stay. I think you could be a great help to us, but we need to be sure that we can trust you."

"I did tell the truth," Martha insisted but she knew already that she was wasting her energy trying to convince any of the colonists. Marion only looked at her sadly, like she was considering her a lost cause. She probably was. Martha had no idea what she was going to do if they decided that she had to go. She wouldn't stand a chance outside the colony's protective dome.

"In that case, I can't help you," Marion said sadly. "But I have something else for you." She handed Martha a folder. Martha flipped it open. Inside were dozens of pages of notes in covered in tiny typeface.

"These are the notes Jasper's grandfather made about the NVI. None of us can really understand them, not even Jasper, but I thought you might like to have a look at them."

"Thank you." Martha wasn't sure how much use a bunch of fifty year old notes were going to be in finding a solution, but that didn't mean she couldn't at least try.

"I'll see you tonight then," Marion bid her good-bye and soon Martha was once again alone in the TARDIS.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

oOo

Martha was walking back towards the console room, having returned to her room to change clothes when she noticed the bright green light emanating from the central column, its intense glow even illuminating the corridor. Shielding her eyes with a hand, Martha stepped into the console room. The light was almost blindingly bright, but she started making her way towards the console, both slightly alarmed and curious in view of what was happening.

"Martha?" Suddenly a familiar figure appeared next to the console, seemingly out of thin air. It was the Doctor. He looked drawn and ghostly pale in the coloured light. His face was set, his gaze drilling into her. His mouth was moving, but beyond her name, she couldn't make out any of the words.

"Doctor, what is going on?" Martha tried not to panic, but something was very wrong. As she was walking towards the Doctor, she couldn't seem to make any headway. It was as if she was walking in place through air that was growing heavier and thicker by the second. Martha tried to speed up, even broke into a run, but although she could soon feel the exertion, she again failed to make any progress and it was getting harder and harder to move at all. It was like her limbs were pushing through treacle instead of empty air. She could see the Doctor extending a hand towards her, as if inviting her to come closer.

Martha renewed her efforts, desperately trying to reach him, but she couldn't. Exhausted, she had to stop. Martha sank to her knees, spent from the effort. Her muscles were aching and she couldn't seem to draw in enough air.

Her body was growing numb and heavy - too heavy for her to remain upright any longer. She pitched forwards. Her face impacted on the grille covering the floor, but she hardly felt anything. A pair of trainers moved into her field of vision. They looked like ones the Doctor always wore. Martha tried to reach out, but she couldn't move anymore, couldn't breathe anymore.

oOo

The Doctor hated to admit defeat, but there was no denying that his plan A - using the emergency transport system to get the TARDIS to him - had failed when the unexpected intruder had forced his hand. In order to save Martha and the workers, he had to use his transport programme earlier than anticipated, before he could properly conceal the energy surge it produced. So by the time security forces had stormed the office, it hadn't just been the young intruder who had been taken away for questioning. The interrogation had been short and judgment swift. No one really cared about what he had done, other than it being a breach of the all-important rules. The fate of Martha and the workers was immaterial to the factory director as long as the guilty parties were brought to justice. Since Martha and the woman she had broken in with were out of the dome's reach, their fate was of little concern. The Doctor and the young male intruder were their concern. However, branded both as saboteurs and rejects, they were sent down to the mining tunnels.

The Doctor sighed and swung his pickaxe against the wall of ice. He swung again, again and again, until he finally freed a tiny blue shard of crystal. He dropped it into the bucket at his feet and allowed himself a moment to rest his aching arms. There were only two crystals in his bucket. He needed at least five in order to make it to the next meal. If he didn't make the quota, he would have to stay down in the tunnel and work until the end of his shift that night. Although his body possessed regenerative abilities and mental strength far superior to that of a human, he wasn't endowed with great physical strength. The work down in the tunnels was hard on him and he had missed the meal the previous day already and it didn't look like he was going to make the quota today.

He still had a back-up plan - the Doctor was a great believer in plan B after all, but in order to execute his plan he needed all his strength and even then he risked doing permanent harm to himself. The Doctor was just about to pick up his tool again and return to work when a crystal was dropped into his bucket. The Doctor looked up and saw the intruder from the security office standing next to him. He too had been sent down to work in the tunnels, chained to the wall like the Doctor. The Doctor opened his mouth to thank him, but the other man simply shook his head and continued working in silence. However, by the time the bell sounded far overhead and the guard came down to check on their progress and unchain those who had met the quota, two more crystals had made their way into the Doctor's bucket, allowing him to go on break with the majority of the workers. Their lunch break was short and by the time, he'd scraped the last of the unidentifiable grub from his bowl, the bell sounded already again, calling an end to the break. It wasn't going to work like this. In order to do what he needed to do, he required several hours of quiet, uninterrupted time. And he needed it soon, the. The longer he waited, the slimmer were his chances of success and the greater the chances that it would be a one one-way trip. He had to act now. While everyone around him was starting to get up and return to work, the Doctor remained seated. He steadied his breathing, focussing on the rhythm of his breath, focussing his mind inwards. He closed his eyes and turned his attention to the millions of foreign sounds surrounding him. They were the thoughts of everyone in the dome, encroaching on his mind and only held back by years of training and discipline.

It was a single presence he was trying to hone in on. At first, he didn't think he would find it, that she was too faint and too far away, but when he touched the familiar mind with his own, he could feel tension melting from his body. The TARDIS, even weakened, provided a safe haven, strengthening and keeping out the foreign thoughts, allowing him to focus his abilities. He was searching for one mind, an untrained young mind. He didn't have to search long. Martha had to be near the TARDIS. He could feel her fear and her frustration, but he forced himself to push aside the foreign emotions. He couldn't help her now. He hated causing her even more pain, but he had no other choice. He hoped he was right because if he was wrong, it wasn't just his own mind that could be lost beyond the point of recovery, ; he also ran the risk of doing harm to Martha.

oOo

Martha woke with a gasp. Panting, she drew in air. Relief flooded through her when she realized she could breathe again. It had been just a dream, she told herself and still she found herself shaking. Martha rubbed a hand over her face and looked around. She was in her room inside the TARDIS. She recalled going back there for a hot shower and change of clothes. To her great relief the shower still worked, but the water was ice-cold. Still, she had been able to finally clean the grime off her skin and treat her hair to a wash as well. She remembered getting out of the shower, feeling like she was about to freeze to death despite having put on as many layers as she could. She wasn't sure what had happened next, but she figured that she'd probably decided to slip under the covers for a while, in the hopes that this would help her feel warm again. She must have fallen asleep and given what had happened in the last few days, a nightmare wasn't all too surprising either. Yet it felt different somehow. Even now, it wasn't fading from her minds as dreams tend to after waking, but every detail remained crystal clear. She couldn't help the feeling that it had been more than just an ordinary dream. It almost was as if the Doctor had tried to reach out to her, somehow. Martha couldn't explain how that would even be possible. It was just a gut feeling that she had. The nagging feeling of the Doctor's presence that she couldn't shake. Or maybe it was all wishful thinking on her part, she reminded herself. She needed to keep a cool head and at the moment, she had more pressing concerns. She checked her watch. It was just past 6 p.m. Had the vote already been cast without her getting another say? But even if she did, she didn't know what else to tell them. The truth hadn't worked, but she couldn't think of a lie that would be more convincing in explaining the TARDIS and what it did. Martha didn't know the least about the technology that made their travels possible, but she doubted that even if she did, the colonists would fail to understand. Martha made her way back to the console room, as only there she would be able to hear if someone knocked at the door. She had found some matches as well as candles during her initial exploration of the TARDIS. At first, she'd feared that she'd quickly run through these meagre supplies, but it turned out that for some reason, once they were lit, the candles simply kept burning without burning down. It was another weird, yet very helpful invention that would be hard to explain to someone not used to being around the Doctor and his ship.

Martha had just settled down, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and had started to take a closer look at the notes Marion had brought here when there was a knock from outside. Martha got up, leaving notes and candles on the floor for the moment. She opened to the door and wasn't really surprised to find Marion there. Her face was grave and Martha could tell that she wasn't bearing good news.

"The vote?" Martha simply asked.

Marion nodded. "Nearly unanimous. I'm afraid you have to leave."

Martha suddenly had to fight a giggle. If this wasn't so serious, she could have sworn she landed in a dreadful episode of some reality show and had just gotten the boot from the audience.

"What's so funny about that?" Marion asked sharply.

"Nothing, nothing," Martha quickly told her, not wanting to lose her only ally in the colony. "What happens now?"

"I have told them that your...travelling machine was broken and they agreed to give you some time to repair it. You have three days, then you have to leave, whether your machine works or not."

"Thank you, Marion," Martha hesitated. "You know there is no way I can possibly repair the...the machine. Not in three days, not ever."

"I know." Marion nodded again. "Martha, I don't know who you really are, or where you're from, but I don't think you mean us any harm. I will help you as much as I can, but in three days you are on your own."

Martha thought for a moment. "Can you get me some maps of the area?"

"The only good ones we have are from before."

"Before?" Martha asked, confused.

Marion stared at her in disbelief. "The crash, of course."

Martha hesitated for a moment. "Can you tell me more about the crash?"

"You really are from another planet!" Marion exclaimed in surprise. "You...you must be."

"Trust me, I am. Now, what about to the crash?"

"Can I come in?" Marion asked, rubbing her hands along her arms. Despite the thick parka she was wearing, she had to be cold. It wasn't much warmer inside the TARDIS, but despite the lack of power, it was still temperate inside the ship.

Martha allowed Marion inside and closed to the door, glad to be away from the pollution outside. She grabbed the candle and led the way to the TARDIS kitchen. Marion followed her without another word. Once they were there, Martha put the candle on the table and turned to heat some water on a butane stove, which she had found along with the candles and matches. Given the size of the TARDIS, her lucky finds were unlikely and she wondered if there wasn't still something alive inside the ship, looking out for her like it always did.

Martha found two clean cups and once it the tea was done, poured tea it into both of them.

"So, what can you tell me about the crash?" Martha asked, a voice inside the back of her mind telling her that this was important. She didn't know why, but she trusted that instinct. It was all she had to go on.

"Something, nobody knows what, fell from the sky about eighty years ago. According to the few records that have survived, it was so large that it darkened the sky. Hardly anything is known about what really happened, but most people believe that whatever it was exploded inside the atmosphere and the debris came crashing down on the surface. Entire cities were turned into craters, the fragments were that huge.The fragments were so huge that entire cities were turned into craters. Some of them hit the ocean, causing catastrophic tidal waves. The sky turned dark after the explosion and temperatures dropped everywhere. Nothing was growing anymore. Most of the original population of our planet died without within the first two years. Those that weren't killed instantly, starved to death or died from the poison. Only those immune against it survived and started building the domes."

"How come you are not immune now?"

"Nobody knows for certain why, but immunity is rare and it is random. Not all of the children of the original survivors were immune themselves. They developed the antidote to safe save future generations," Marion explained, her voice almost casual, as if it was merely a minor historic fact that she was imparting.

The immunity had to be a random genetic trait, or so it seemed. But whatever knowledge these people had before the crash, it had effectively been wiped out. Jasper's grandfather must have been one of the original survivors then who taught his children what he knew about medicine. As knowledge had been passed down from the survivors to their children, a lot had probably been lost, Martha mused.

"What is it like on your planet?" Marion asked softly and for the first time, she sounded sad. She was probably wondering what things were like for her and her colonist had the crash never happened. Martha couldn't blame her.

"In a way, it is like here. I mean, it least that is what it looks like. The city, looks pretty much the way cities do on my planet, at least where I'm from. But..." Suddenly, white hot pain shot through her head. It only lasted a second, but left her gasping for breath.

"What's wrong?" Marion asked, sounding concerned.

"I don't..." the pain returned with a vengeance, lasting longer this time.

"I don't know." Martha ground out. "I have to..." she didn't know what she had to do, but she found herself moving away from the table, towards the door as if someone else was in control of her body. Marion cautiously followed her. Semi-aware, Martha saw through tear-filled eyes that they were returning to the control room. The pains in her head were coming more and more frequently now, leaving her little time to recover and unable to fight against the force that seemed to control her body. She found herself walking up to the console, resting her fingers on the controls for a moment. Then, like in a frenzy, she moved around the console, flipping switches, turning dials and pressing buttons. The TARDIS lit up, flickering, but the greenish glow of the column was back, illuminating the room. But Martha didn't stop, couldn't stop. Her fingers moved so fast she could hardly see and all she could do was to keep breathing through the immense pain. Suddenly, it all stopped. Martha crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The pain in her head was gone, but so was her strength.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

oOo

"I hope this plan of yours is working," was the first thing Dr. Mallory said to the Doctor, when the Time Lord regained consciousness.

"Uhm." It was all the Doctor managed to say. He felt incredibly exhausted. Just the thought of moving or speaking took effort.

"I told you this was too dangerous. You can't go on like this. You're killing yourself, Doctor," Dr. Mallory continued. "I can't let you do that." Dr. Mallory shook his head, then continued in a soft voice. "It's what Central wants anyways. They have ordered me to replace your NVI. This time I will follow their orders. I can't allow you to kill yourself. At least with a new NVI, you'll have a chance of surviving until things can change. And I promise you, they will. Very soon."

"Please. You have to let me do this," the Doctor struggled to form the words.

"Do what?" Dr. Mallory asked.

"End this." It was getting harder for him to speak. He felt the tug of oblivion on his mind, dragging him back into darkness. "We want the same thing," the Doctor told him, his strength waving quickly. The expression on Dr. Mallory's face changed to one of surprise.

"I need your help. You can trust me." The Doctor couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

"Just rest, Doctor. You'll feel better when you wake up," Dr. Mallory promised. Panic swept through the Doctor, but he was too weak to do anything about it He tried to protest, but he had already felt the faint prick of a needle and oblivion claimed him.

oOo

When the Doctor woke the next time, he could attest that Dr. Mallory had been right. He did feel a lot better, he could tell even before moving or opening his eyes. His headache had dropped down a notch or two to bearable levels and the bone-deep exhaustion had lessened as well. Much to his surprise, his internal sense of time told him that he had been out for a good twelve hours.

From the looks of it, he was still in the dome's infirmary, but Dr. Mallory was nowhere to be seen. There was another familiar figure, though: the young man from the tunnel, the same young man who was in a way responsible for landing him down there sat on the next bed, eyes on the Doctor. The Doctor waved at him, just to see what he was going to do. The young man looked at him uncertainly, but waved back. Then he pushed himself off the bed and headed out of sight, only to return a few moments later with Dr. Mallory in tow.

"Hello, again," The Doctor greeted him, having sat up in the meantime. He had tried to straighten his hair as well, but he suspected that he had failed on that account.

"Doctor, this is Paul. I believe you have met before," Dr. Mallory introduced the young man. He only nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't smile.

"You said you had a plan?" he asked the Doctor.

The Doctor nodded. "Indeed I do. Not the best plan, I admit, but it's a plan."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Paul demanded, a scowl still firmly on his face.

"Uhm, you don't, I guess." The Doctor scratched the back of his head. "But you saw what happened to the people in the yard? I think that should count for something." He folded his arms in front of his chest. The ball was in the other man's court now.

"Let's hear it then." Paul remained cool.

Or maybe it wasn't. The Doctor wondered whether being around people controlled by the NVI was causing him to lose his touch. But since pondering that question most likely wasn't going to get him anywhere, he started outlining his plan.

Dr. Mallory and Paul listened attentively, although the Doctor couldn't help but notice the expressions of disbelief soon forming on their faces as he spoke. When he finished, there was a long moment of silence.

"What do you need?" Dr. Mallory was the first to speak.

"Half an hour of quiet time, at the max, that is. Ten minutes really should be enough," the Doctor told him with more confidence than he felt. In truth, he wasn't sure he would be able to safely sustain the connection with Martha long enough for her to set the TARDIS in motion.

"I'm under orders to send you back to the tunnels once you are recovered, but I think I can delay that for the time you need. But what I still don't understand is how you are planning on getting your ship inside the dome."

"Exactly," Paul chimed in.

"She's not exactly an ordinary ship," the Doctor explained. "Getting her in here won't be a problem and she doesn't really take up a lot of space. Not much more than that cupboard over there." He pointed across the room. Paul and Dr. Mallory simply stared at him.

Again the physician was the first to regain his composure.

"There are a lot of disused tunnels underneath the dome. People used to take refuge down there before the domes were built. Most of them are closed up now or have become too unstable, but I still know a few places that should be fairly safe."

"All right, let's get going then," the Doctor declared.

oOo

Pain was the first thing Martha became aware of when she regained consciousness. She remembered the white-hot pain that had brought her down and was pleased to find that what she was feeling now was a mere muted echo of that earlier pain. Confident that her brain wasn't going to leak out of her ears, she opened her eyes and found herself to be in a familiar room. It was the same room where she had awakened after the TARDIS had crashed, complete with the fireplace burning. As she had discovered then, it was just like the candles. Once lit, the smokeless fire just continued to burn until extinguished. Martha was certain that she had put it out before leaving the TARDIS. She hadn't thought that anything would catch on fire, as this clearly wasn't an ordinary fire, but she hadn't wanted to take the chance. Martha sat up, the ache in her head intensifying, but remaining moderate. Merely the effort of sitting up had tired her out. She was tempted to lie back down immediately. But curiosity won out and she got to her feet. Her knees were weak, but holding her weight. She felt shaky, like she had just run ten miles.

"Martha!" The Doctor called out to her from the doorframe. Even in the rather weak light from the fireplace, he looked awful. He was pale, his face was drawn and she wasn't sure, but it looked like he had lost weight as well.

"Doctor! I'm so glad to see you! I thought..."

"Well, you did all the work."

"What do you mean?"

"With a little help from me, of course, but it was you who brought the TARDIS here."

Martha stared at him, only now realizing what must have happened earlier. "I was flying the TARDIS?" she repeated. "You were in my head!" she exclaimed as it finally sank in.

"Yes. I'm so, so sorry. It was the only way I had of getting the TARDIS back," the Doctor sounded genuinely sorry, making it hard for Martha to stay mad at him. Besides, she would have done just about anything to get off this planet.

"Where are we, by the way?" Martha asked, secretly hoping that they were indeed far from this wretched planet.

"We're in a cave beneath the glacier. We're safe, at least for the moment." As he spoke, a tendril of blood started to sneak from his nose.

"Doctor, your nose is bleeding," Martha told him, unable to keep the concern out of her voice. Something was wrong with the Doctor. The Doctor pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood away, not meeting her eyes.

Martha had many questions, so many that she didn't quite know where to start. She settled for the obvious one. "Doctor, are you all right?"

"Yeah, it's nothing." He told her, refusing the meet her gaze, The Doctor might be good at a lot of things, but he wasn't a very good liar.

"I see you brought a new friend." He changed the topic. Martha went along, deciding to leave the subject for now.

"I didn't have much choice, she was in the TARDIS when...you know. But she told me some interesting things about this planet. Apparently it wasn't always a wasteland. There was some sort of crash - I think it might have been a meteorite that devastated the planet and released some sort of toxin into the atmosphere."

"That explains some things. Not all of them, mind you, but some. But I don't think it was a meteorite, at least not a real one. I think it was a ship, disguised to look like a meteorite. To cause this degree of pollution, it must have exploded in the atmosphere."

"That's exactly what Marion told me," Martha confirmed. "Speaking of Marion, where is she?"

"She's with Paul, going over specs for the dome."

"Paul is here?" Martha asked. She was surprised to hear from the young man again. She hadn't imagined that he'd faced a pleasant fate after their operation had gone so terribly wrong.

"Yes. He's been pretty helpful, actually." From the Doctor's tone, Martha gathered that while he didn't like Paul very much, he did hold a degree of appreciation for him.

"Are you all right?" the Doctor asked her suddenly.

Martha shrugged. "I think so." It was true, her head still ached a bit, but it was nothing compared to the pain she had experience earlier in the TARDIS.

"What is the plan?" Martha didn't think the Doctor would have gone to all these lengths without having something in mind. The Doctor always had a plan, even if they didn't always work out.

"Paul is working on setting up a bigger EMP generator. That will take out everyone implanted with an NVI for a couple of minutes. While everyone is down, you and Marion use the air filtration system to deploy the anti-viral serum," the Doctor said as he succinctly explained his plan, leaving Martha with more questions than she had started out with. She wondered how long she had been out and how the Doctor had gotten Marion and Paul to trust him so quickly. She knew he was good at gaining people's trust, but Marion and Paul didn't seem like the most trusting people.

"Come."

She followed the Doctor into the console room, where Paul was working on what looked like a shoebox and Marion was studying blueprints spread out on the floor. An elderly, white-haired man stood leaning against the railing, watching them work.

"Ah, Doctor. How is your young friend?" he asked warmly when he spotted Martha and the Doctor come in.

"She's fine," the Doctor replied curtly. The man looked taken aback at the curt response, but caught himself quickly. "And how are you, Doctor?"

"To be honest, I've been better," the Doctor admitted, but before the man could say anything else, the Doctor had already turned his attention to Paul.

"How is it coming?" the Doctor asked Paul. The young man looked up from what he was doing. "Almost done. But it's going to need an enormous amount of power. There is no way we can extend the range to cover the dome, even if we had ten generators. It's simply not possible."

"Let me worry about that," the Doctor simply said. Paul looked at the elderly man, as if searching for confirmation. The man just nodded.

"If Paul's ready, I'm good to go as well." Marion got to her feet. "But we need to get in closer. Much closer. The EMP gives us less than three minutes to get to the life support controls. We were never going to make it from down here." She sounded doubtful. "We..."

"Let me worry about that. Just do what I told you," the Doctor cut her off roughly. Martha looked at him in surprise. She had seen the Doctor angry, even enraged, but never like this. He never treated people this way. Something was wrong with him and it was more than just a nosebleed, Martha was sure of it.

"Stop worrying, Martha." The Doctor suddenly told her. "I'm fine."

"Did you just read my thoughts?" Martha asked, dumbstruck.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again," the Doctor told her, his voice softening.

But Martha wasn't about to let it go. "You read my thoughts," she repeated, her mind struggling to process. "Since when? And when were you going to tell me?"

"This was the first time and I promise it won't happen again." The Doctor sounded genuinely sorry.

"But you can read minds?" Martha couldn't believe it, her surprise momentarily outweighing her anger. She had been with the Doctor all this time and he'd never even hinted at it. Despite his reassurance that it hadn't happened before, she felt betrayed.

The Doctor hesitated before he answered her question. "Yes, I can. We'll talk about this later, I promise." The way he looked her straight in the eyes made Martha believe him, made her want to believe him. She needed to believe him.

The elderly man came walking towards them, obviously having witnessed their exchange. "Doctor, can I have a word?"

"Yes, excuse me. Marion will fill you in on your part of the plan."

The Doctor and the elderly man walked out of earshot. Martha looked after the Doctor, not sure whether she should be angry or concerned about the change in his behaviour. It was all going a little bit too fast for her taste and she couldn't help but wonder how much of what she was seeing was the Doctor and how much was the NVI influencing him. For the first time since they had met, she didn't feel comfortable around him. She considered confronting the Doctor right now, but it looked like he was already getting an earful from the white-haired man. Martha went over to Marion instead, hoping that someone would finally tell her what they were doing here. Not that she wasn't glad to be reunited with the Doctor, but she felt a dark sense of foreboding that their troubles were only just beginning and that, as usual, the Doctor was in the thick of it.

"Are you all right?" Marion asked her, looking up from the floor where she'd been studying the blueprints.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Marion got up and joined her. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't believe you before. But thanks to you and the Doctor, we now have a real chance to make a difference."

"What do you mean?" Martha was getting tired of everyone knowing something she didn't.

"Well, with Dr. Mallory perfecting the antidote and the Doctor and Paul increasing the range of the EMP generator to cover the entire dome, all you and I have to do is deploy the cure." When Martha looked at her questioningly, she explained further.

"Dr. Mallory helped develop the NVI for Central. He's been working on the cure for decades now, but you have seen that it's far from perfect yet," Marion told her sadly, no doubt recalling the gruesome death of her sister. "Your doctor friend managed to synthesise an aerosol from the anti-viral drug. We can use the air filtration system to deploy it."

Martha was appalled. She didn't know how many people were living under the dome, but it was massive, and there had to be thousands of people depending on the structure for protection. They would be causing hundreds if not thousands of deaths given the high mortality rate of the treatment. She couldn't go through with this and she couldn't let the Doctor go through with this. Martha crossed the room in quick strides and pulled the Doctor away from Dr. Mallory.

"Doctor, you have to stop this!" The Doctor looked at her blankly. "You can't do this, you can't gamble with the lives of these people like this." The Doctor didn't even look like he was listening, he was staring into space.

"You have to stop this." She grabbed the Doctor by his forearm. He jerked under her touch, like struck by a jolt of electricity. His eyes focussed on her. "Martha," he said slowly, as if just now registering that she was talking to him.

"What is wrong with you?" Martha asked, concern for her friend temporarily winning out over her outrage.

"It's nothing. I'm fine," he replied casually.

"No, you're not. Your nose is bleeding again," she pointed out. The Doctor pulled out his handkerchief again and wiped away the blood. Martha watched him closely, finding his motions just a touch jerky. "What have they done to you?"

"You know about the NVI," the Doctor began softly.

"Yes, of course I do." Martha nodded. "But I thought you not being human and all, it wouldn't work on you," It wasn't quite true. It was what she had been hoping, but she had thought her hopes confirmed when the Doctor had brought them here, but now his strange behaviour made her suspicious. Could he be leading her into a trap?

The Doctor seemed to pick up on her fear. "I promise you that I'm in full control of my actions. So whatever happens, trust me."

Martha wished she could.

TBC


End file.
